


Distance

by deltachye



Category: Naruto
Genre: Childhood Friends, Fluff and Angst, One Shot, Other, Pining, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 20:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18581614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x itachi uchiha]you and he are of distant worlds, never to touch; yet one can hope to dream.[DW19]





	Distance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [windrises](https://archiveofourown.org/users/windrises/gifts).



Itachi Uchiha is distant.

You’d like to say he isn’t. You’d like to say you know him, like the both of you are inseparable and can read one another’s minds. You’d like to say “Itachi is my best friend” and not have a shadow of doubt cross your smile. In a child’s world, where one thing means everything, it’s earth shattering to know that Itachi is…

Only distant.

You _are_ friends, you think. But he’s ‘friends’ with everybody. Even though he’s enviously popular, able to strike up a conversation with anybody—student or teacher alike—you think it must be lonely being him. Sure, he’s friends with everybody, but you don’t see that he has a _best_ friend. He doesn’t seem to have anybody you can go out on late night escapades with, sneaking out of windows to march through the dark, ready to face the mysterious wild hand in hand. Whenever he’s alone, he’s really alone, a central mass that seems to steal even the light from the sky. He doesn’t ever smile when he’s alone. You think it’s sad.

He graduates early even though the both of you are the same age. No matter how hard you try, you can’t even hope to surpass his skill. He’s a god amongst mortals. Everybody knows it. Still, your family is closely aligned with the Uchihas, so you see him more often than most would when he leaves the Academy. It pains you how politely he treats you. You want nothing more than the rowdy, messy, mistake-ridden friendships that are normal for people your age—but Itachi closes himself off before you can even try. You know it’s not just you he’s like this with. But you so desperately want to be an exception.

For now, though, you have to settle for being a distant onlooker; like a curious passerby staring down into a pond, watching a black koi fish flutter along meaninglessly. You’re both of different worlds. You’re never meant to be. And yet you want nothing more than to sink into crystal clear water, where sounds are muted and worlds are deep—and even though you don’t know it, he only wants to rise to the land, joining the people.

You think you get your first chance when you and Itachi are assigned to a mission together. It seems shocking that somebody like you would ever be put on Itachi’s level. You’re very aware of the fact that you’re young and inexperienced. It seems magnified when you’re standing next to Itachi Uchiha, despite being the same age. And, despite knowing him for so long, you can still feel your voice shake when you exchange greetings.

“[Name],” he remarks gently, eyes brightening with recognition. His smile is fond. “I remember you. You’ve grown up a lot, huh?”

It’s shocking. You always thought you were just some blurry image to him, some unimportant cloud drifting away in another world. Hastily, you comment that he’s the same—changed, grown up. He grimaces bitterly, pre-mature age weighing down his face.

“I guess so.”

If you were stronger, braver, less afraid—you would’ve hugged him. You knew he needed it. He knew he needed it. _God_ knows he needed it. But the two of you were rough and unaccustomed, born of different worlds. Who knows how different things could have been if you’d just bit down on your tongue and embraced him? Held him, shielded his worries, braced some of his burdens… you can almost imagine it, the feeling of warmth collecting between your two chests. He’d always been so tall. Your arms—would you try slinging them around his neck and standing on your tiptoes? Or would you have settled around his waist loosely, burying the side of your face against the hollow of his neck?

Who knows what would’ve happened if somebody had closed the gap.

It becomes terrifyingly clear that you’re unqualified for this mission far too early. Your squadmates lie lifelessly, noses in the dirt. It’s such an undignified way to die. You’ve been taught to kill your emotions and close off your heart, but there’s no way you can stop yourself from crying. Nobody on this planet deserves to die alone.

The illusion creeps up on you so carefully that you don’t notice until it’s too late. The smell of fresh roses is perfumed and rich, tickling the roof of your mouth comfortingly. You’ve just brought them in from the garden. They stand proudly in the vase. As you arrange them, strong arms weave under yours and yank you backwards, away from the table. You brace yourself in surprise and fall against a comfortingly stiff presence. The arms squeeze tightly around your waist and you feel his nose on the skin of your nape before anything else.

“Guess who.”

It can’t be. This is fake; it has to be. There’s no way. _There’s no way this is real._ You swallow down your feelings and turn apprehensively, finally facing him. Itachi’s eyes are coal black and warm, like glowing embers. His hair frames his face, handsome with sharp angles. Mischief lines the corners of his lips.

“Surprised to see me? I know I’m a bit late, and it’s my fault. I’m sorry. But I’m here now.”

“You aren’t!” you blurt out, squeezing your eyes shut like it’ll make him go away. You cringe away from the illusion, which feels so wam on your skin. “You’re not real, and you have no effect on me!”

“No… effect?”

The tip of his finger is cool on the bottom of your chin. Without any effort at all he lifts your chin and slants his mouth over yours before you can even open your eyes. You hate it, this fake him—you hate yourself for wanting the real him to be more like the fake him. He smells of faint incense and sweet earth. Your body slumps forwards without your volition, and he catches you, cradling you close. You can feel his every move, so hyper-sensitive to his touch. It ghosts past the small of your back, dancing up each vertebra to your shoulder blades. It tickles and tingles the way a raven’s feather does on bare skin.

“You hurt me, [Name],” he murmurs in his heartbreakingly soft voice. He’s smiling, but you can visibly see the pain in his eyes now, as if the embers are starting to go cold in neglectful night air. He cradles your face in his large hand and you can’t stop yourself from leaning into it. “All I want is to say I’m sorry for loving you.”

When the genjutsu breaks you keel forwards, your weight shifted into an imaginary embrace. You cough and splutter, feeling as if you had been slowly suffocated. The water is not akin to you. The water does not accept you. This world is not yours; you learnt that the hard way.

You expect Itachi to pull you to your feet and order you to go on your way. The mission has already failed and you’re alive. Although your heart is in pieces, and you wish you were dead, you’re better off than the corpses lying around you.

But he doesn’t. He sits with you in the rain, and slowly rubs your back. They’re quiet, careful little circles, and you can’t help but flinch away because the touch reminds you too much of the way the false Itachi hugged you close.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp, feeling pathetic for not being able to pull yourself together. Itachi’s gaze falls, but then he looks up at you again, coal-embers tentative to spark.

“I saw what illusion you were in.”

He says it succinctly and flatly without any other meaning than the literal. At this point you don’t even care. The rain seeps cold into you, weighing you down. How foolish of you to think you could ever join those of the water?

“I’m… sorry I can’t be that for you.”

“Don’t apologize,” you snap bitterly. It makes it worse if he feels bad that he isn’t what you want from him. At this rate, you don’t know who he is—the quiet prodigy; the one that smiles at your awkward jokes; the merciless killer with an unrivalled blood record. The one that’ll take bites out of your food when you aren’t looking and laugh when you’re angry, kissing you before you can yell at him? The one that will rub cold circles on your back while you sob in the rain?

He takes a finger and places it on your chin. Your skin is so numb from the cold you don’t feel it until your head rises and he looks down at you. You look up at him. The rain collects in heavy droplets off the ends of his dark hair, looking like pearl-shaped diamonds before they fall onto your face. Some land in your eye and sting, but you can’t even bring yourself to blink. His eyes are endless. The darkness makes them look like they have no end and no beginning. They’re as deep as ocean pools, vast as the night sky.

“I could be… can’t I?”

The statement wasn’t for you. He pulls away sharply and turns around like nothing happened at all. Wordlessly he easily maneuvers you onto his back, and you cling on limply. Slowly, he carries you back home. You press your face into his back selfishly. Here, it’s warm. At least you think it is.

He lets you.

 

\---

When you wake up in the hospital, you’re bleary and heavy and dry and everything bad that makes you remember you aren’t actually dead. If you _were_ dead, you’d have some peace.

You haul yourself up to a sitting position with some difficulty and rack your brain for memories. What had happened? You and the rest of the recon team were waiting for the target to come. The target… they had superior genjutsu abilities with an unknown radius. You were meant to signal the attack group for signs of the target. But you couldn’t remember seeing any signs, nor could you remember anything after settling down in your post. What happened?

“Oh, you’re awake?”

You whip your head to the sound of the voice. Itachi closes a slim novel he’d been reading, tucking it under his arm before you can read the cover. He’s wearing a loose-fitting casual outfit, which is odd, considering you usually only see him in mission attire. On the table next to him is a vase with a dripping, bloody rose—with closer inspection, it’s just a normal red flower.

“Itachi!?” you try to say as normally as you can, but your heart is in your throat and you choke on it. Why is he here? There’s no reason for him to be. Although the two of you are on the same team for the mission, he was a part of the attack group, not recon. Besides, it’s not like you and he are particularly close, even if you’d like to be. You have no idea why he’d be checking up on you.

“The mission went awry,” he explains, his voice dropping seriously. “Some of your memories were lost, it seems.”

“…oh.” The news hits harder than you’d like. You wonder if the others are okay. Sensing your worry, Itachi stands and comes closer to your bedside. You can’t help but panic as you look up to him. He’s never been this close to you before.

With a single finger he gently taps the front of your forehead. The light touch startles you and you jump back into your pillows exaggeratedly. He chuckles at the sight and you’re doubly-winded. Has he ever laughed so carefreely around you before?

“I’ll be seeing you around more often, [Name]. Please take care of yourself.”

“W…? Um, yes. I will. Take care of myself. Thank you.”

He nods to himself as if confirming something. His eyes are thoughtful and hazy. But he blinks himself out of it and rests his hand on your shoulder. The warmth seems to sear your skin.

“[Name]? Thank _you_ for caring about me so much. I think I’ll give it a try.”

“I…?”

Everything he says is throwing you for a loop. Is he even speaking the same language as you? You are definitely missing something. But it’s no use, because you have nothing but nothing in the gap from when you were last awake to now. Something happened that only he knows about. And, of course, being the cryptic man he is, he’ll say nothing to you about it.

He smiles to himself, seeming relieved to get something off his chest. Even though you’ve still got no clue as to what he’s talking about, you’re pleased to see the gentle expression on his usually weary face. When he leaves, you look to the rose, and get just a hint of its subtle fragrance—

— _I could be, can’t I?_ —

And then nothing. The headache is splitting and you sink back into your pillows, staring up at the ceiling powerlessly. Your heart thuds in your chest.

Is this… hope?

Itachi is distant. He’s of another world, always too far, always hopelessly unreachable. Yet the rose sits in dazzlingly crystal clear water, and you feel as if he’s extended a hand—a tentative, but warm hand—to close the gap. He said he’d give it a try.

You feel a little closer to him.

**Author's Note:**

> support my writing? www.ko-fi.com/deltachye  
> tumblr: https://deltachye.tumblr.com/tagged/chye%27s-fics


End file.
